


moth to a flame

by kermitwashingtonlincon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Mutual Pining, crowleys rat friends, theyre faeries!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29624715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kermitwashingtonlincon/pseuds/kermitwashingtonlincon
Summary: Two faeries fall in love
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	moth to a flame

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting on the back burner for a while, i even have a list of bugs for everyones wings

In Hogback wood, there's a small town in the trees, the creatures living there had found the ground to be too exposed to human eyes and curious animals.

Except Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale was very aware of the dangers of being a faerie living in the ground, but she’d lived in this tree her whole life and wasn’t going to stop now. The base of a tree made for a much more spacious home than nests and holes up high. For one, a stolen human pocket dictionary the size of Aziraphale couldn’t fit comfortably in some place with Aziraphale and the rest of her belongings. 

Some faeries had a lot of clothes, made from recycled fabric scraps found in the woods, fabric swatches stolen from the human fabric store in town in the dead of night, doll clothes also stolen in the dead of night with some adjustments. They were a quite fashionable group, really. 

Aziraphale was more than content with a few skirts and shirts and a growing collection of sweaters (some stolen and some she made herself, last time she was in town she’d stolen some crochet hooks and yarn), and a singular pair of shoes. Her feet hardly ever touched the ground, they hadn't ever since she learned how to fly, so she saw no need for anything fancy. An added plus to not wearing shoes was that Aziraphale’s tiny bare feet hardly made any sound when she snuck into a bookshop (that was for some reason, almost always closed, but who was Aziraphale to complain) by the edge of the wood.

It was quite a large bookshop, even by human standards, and filled with old books Aziraphale would spend hours pouring over. She would mark her place in a book with a tiny piece of paper that humans hopefully wouldn’t notice, and fly home before any humans came in to notice her. 

Except today.

Today, Aziraphale discovered the hard way that the young man who lived in the flat upstairs had four very loud and curious friends.

A bespectacled boy walked in Aziraphale’s direction, eyeing the book she’d had open. In a panic, she fluttered toward the ceiling as quick as she could, not that speed had ever been her strong suit.

“Hey Adam, who’s been reading,” he shut the book and brushed dust off the cover, “Peter and Wendy?”

Another boy, presumably Adam, shrugged, “Dunno, I’m too old for that book now.”

A girl in a red poncho rolled her eyes, “Too old? You’re  _ ten _ .”

“I’ll be eleven next week,” Adam said matter-of-factly.

“Still.”

While they argued about which of the group was more mature, Aziraphale tried to take the opportunity to fly off, but her exit (the mail slot) was blocked by giant sneakers. It was winter, so she highly doubted any windows would be open. She stayed close by the ceiling and flew to the small flat upstairs she’d hardly explored. 

“Is there a bug in here?” A third boy said, this one with a strange accent, Aziraphale had never heard one like it before, she almost wanted to get another look at him but decided against it.

“Probably a moth, it’s fine,” said Adam.

_ Close enough _ , thought Aziraphale. She flitted around the small flat looking for open windows or any place to hide, nothing, and she was too small to open one herself. It had started to rain, anyway, she struggled with flying in the rain unless she had an umbrella of some sort.

She found herself in an attic, the door just open enough to let her push in. It was surprisingly neat, there was an old dollhouse in one corner. A very nice dollhouse, actually, two stories with big windows. The faerie approached it and set her hand on the doorknob and pulled, it was just the perfect size for her. 

In the tiny doll living room, all the furniture had been pushed aside for a gigantic  _ rat _ to nap. Aziraphale resisted the urge to shriek, this thing was near twice her size, and she loathed to wake it.

The rat, as much as Aziraphale hated to admit it, was very cute, mostly white with a black face and black spots on its back, it had curled around something in its sleep. 

_ A faerie _ .

Aziraphale gasped. The rat stayed asleep, but the faerie shifted slightly, facing toward her. She was quite pretty, a pointed nose and short, red, hair. Thin as a reed, though, Aziraphale vaguely wondered if she got enough to eat. The fact that someone like her was peaceful with the rodent let Aziraphale relax a bit.

Unsure of what to do, the blonde faerie sat in a pink armchair patiently, hoping that when the creatures before her woke she wouldn’t startle them. 

Crowley stretched, careful not to disturb Puck, and yawned. She carefully moved his arm off her and stood up. She reached her arms up to the sky and stretched her wings out behind her. 

“Erm-hello,” said a soft voice behind her.

Crowley leapt into the air, hit her head on the wooden ceiling, and whipped around “Who the hell are you?”

The faerie behind her was dressed in a tan circle skirt and soft-looking blue sweater, “My deepest apologies, dear girl,” curly white hair, that matched her wings almost perfectly, bounced when she talked, “You see, I came up here when the humans downstairs came home, I- I’m here often reading books and I hadn’t realized how late it was. I came up here and I didn’t realize anyone was erm- was  _ home _ .” 

Crowley softened a bit, “Ah. Well,” she rolled on the balls of her feet, “You’re welcome to stay here until tomorrow, if you like. Avoid those pesky humans.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude-,” the blonde faerie paused and looked to Crowley.

“Crowley,” she supplied.

“Crowley. I’m Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale, it suited her, “Nice to meet you, Aziraphale,” she extended her hand to shake, Aziraphale bit her lip, “Puck doesn’t bite, in case you were wondering.”

“Ah,” she walked forward and shook Crowley’s hand with a firmer grip than one might expect from someone that looked as soft around the edges as Aziraphale did. Crowley liked that. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are the only thing keeping me writing i really appreciate them


End file.
